


In Your Lips, I Shall Forever Lie

by TheLastArchivist



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Lost Love, Nostalgia, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3601890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastArchivist/pseuds/TheLastArchivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The circumspect Commander of the Inquisition leads Trevelyan away from the war for a moment and introduces her to the dark world that is his past. </p>
<p>Once a tortured templar, he shares his bittersweet memories regarding a certain mage for whom he fell in love once, and who went on to save Thedas to become a living legend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Honnleath

**Author's Note:**

> Original Cullen artwork in background used in Cover and Chapter Headers belongs to artist Greendelle.

 

He saw her eyes move to his lips once more and follow the thin trail that stretched upwards from his once normal upper lip. Like so many women had done before, she stared at it absent-mindedly, unaware that her gesture might stir some bad feelings in him. As her eyes lingered on the thin scar, he knew exactly what she was wondering.

It had been five months now since they had been together. He thought she deserved to know.

— Do you know how I got this? — he asked almost in a murmur, the tone he always used with her, and only with her, when they discussed their most intimate issues.

Her eyes met his and she looked flustered. He couldn’t suppress a slight grin. His voice had provoked the desired effect.

— I...imagine you earned it after a strenuous fight. — she answered with pride in her voice, tracing the scar with nothing but a soft brush of her index while she pictured her brave Commander leading a troop in a battlefield.

— No. — he replied, watching her surprised expression with delight. He took her hand in his and kissed it tenderly, leading her away from the lake

— Come with me.

 

...

 

They walked the streets of Honnleath and soon arrived at a gloomy and apparently abandoned two-store house, surrounded by an unbelievably still vivacious garden. Someone had been tending the flowers while the owners were away, it seemed.

He raised his head to gaze longingly at the place with a melancholic glance, then slowly walked through the small path that lead to the entrance. She followed him without uttering a single word. He would explain soon enough why he had led her to that strange location. She had grown so used to the Commander that she knew what his long periods of silence meant by now. He was probably overcome by some strong emotion and was reminiscing memories of old. Many of these memories he refused to speak about, either from the pain or the melancholy they evoked whenever he was forced to relive them. It would be best not to ask too many questions before he took the initiative to explain.

He moved his hands towards both sides of his neck, seeming to pull something from inside his robes. A faint silvery glitter told her he was removing a hidden necklace, whose pendants were not jewelry, but small keys. How had she failed to noticed he wore it all this time?

_Maker’s breath, the man is full of secrets._

His fingers closed around the largest key and he unlocked the door, beckoning for her to enter.

— Come in.

 

...

 

The house was in complete darkness and absolute silence, and the eerie night wind produced an unpleasant sound. He hastily shut the door behind them, making her jump suddenly. Apparently unaware of having scared her, he lighted one of the candlesticks resting on a table near the entrance and proceeded to carry it. The two of them were enveloped by the dark, except for the tiny spot of light between them. For a moment, they quietly stared at each other, mesmerized by the effect the candlelight had on their faces.

It illuminated his honeyed eyes, making them sparkle more intensely as it was reflected on his steady gaze. The yellow glow caressed his suave face, highliting his handsome lips in a delicate way. But his intense brow, always twisted in a deliciously mischievous expression when nurturing sensual thoughts about her, now seemed to hint at even more mischievous visions as both stood alone, hearing each other’s breaths in the still, sweet darkness.

She wasn’t sure if her own expression betrayed those notions, but his eyebrows quirked ever so slightly and a short, satisfied noise came from his throat, as if he had guessed what went on her mind.

— Well, now that we’re here, would you follow me to my room? It’s on the second floor.

— Y-your room? — she replied, yet again surprised — So this is...

— My home. Or at least it was until the Blight. — he replied in a melancholic tone — Mind your step. These steps are rather...untrustworthy.

He waited for her to follow as they ascended carefully, holding her hand all along.

— Is this place abandoned?

— Oh, no. My family pays one of the local gardeners to watch over it. He and his family live in a cottage nearby. They mind the house during our absence.

— How long have you been away? — she remarked, noticing the thin layer of dust wherever she touched.

— Ten years or so, I guess. It’s no wonder they think we’ll never return. No guests to welcome, no need for cleaning so often. Careful, that step is faulty. My foot used to slip everytime I stepped on it. Took a few years to find out it was my brother’s doing.

— Your brother? How so? — she asked in an amused tone. Cullen grumbled a bit before answering.

— Apparently our father convinced him there was nothing wrong with a bit of pranking. Actually, he rather enjoyed watching me and my siblings teasing each other. — he snorted and smirked — So one day, my youngest brother thought it was a good idea to pass some butter right on the doorstep of my sister’s room. For... revenge reasons, you know. She could get insufferably smug after winning in chess.

— Did he really get upset that much?

— You didn’t know my sister. She was the eldest of us four. If she weren’t so...concerned with her younger siblings, I’d write to her more often. — his voice hinted at feelings of mild nuisance.

— Later on, he found it so amusing he decided to try again. This time, on the other side of the stairs. The whole brilliant idea behind it was to get the quietest of us to lose his temper. Turns out it was my mother who almost fell from the stairs and someone got locked in their room for the remainder of Summer. Never saw my brother try it again. Or at least for a whole year, when father convinced him mother had already forgotten the whole affair.  

She pictured his family for a moment, with the thoughtful mother always looking out for her sons and daughter, teaching them to perform their duties with discipline. Then, the father, proud of his wife, but still keeping life in the house cheerful by making his kids go out and play, just as siblings should. No wonder they were so loud, as Cullen once told her. Happiness and order under the same roof. A perfect combination.

— You must’ve been very happy here. — she suggested.

— I was. — he confirmed in a joyous tone, so atypical to him — I keep fond memories of my childhood.

 _And always drew strength from them during the most harsh moments of my life._ , he thought privately.

A hint of jealousy struck her, but she said nothing. There were no pranks played in the Trevelyan household. Nor any loving mother closely watching her children and teaching them right from wrong when necessary. Only a palatious estate full of relatives, each in their own room with their own duties to perform and a majestic dining room where once she used to sit, filled with unspoken words, remorse and regret and a deafening silence.


	2. A Chest Full of Memories

They arrived in the second floor and he held her close to him, navigating through the penumbra with relative ease. It had been ten years since the last time he had been home, but he remembered the path to his bedroom as if he had been there yesterday.

He caught the smallest key from the necklace, breathing with immense relief as he heard the door unlock.

— Thank the Maker. No one attempted to break in. After all those years, I thought...

— Seems almost like a miracle. — she replied, while he led her inside.

She entered the secret lair of what was possibly the most private man in Thedas. Her first impression – or what at least could be gathered lurking beneath the thick layer of dust – was that of an unnaturally tidy room. At least for a child, anyway. For a moment, she was dumbfounded. Had he always been so...disciplined?  

— Sorry for the mess. — he hurriedly apologised, cleaning the dust from the desk as best he could. The dust permeated the air and he coughed a few times, proceeding to draw the curtains and open the large window.

“The mess.” He had to be kidding. If this weren’t the room of a ten-year old boy, she would’ve thought a priest or a military officer lived here, such was the organized state of things. Nothing could be seen out of place.

— Your parents certainly made sure you kept your room clean, huh?

— What? Ah, you mean...no. Not really. Me and my family were used to order. We had to be. Honnleath was far from everything. Each villager was responsible for himself. We learned to take care of our belongings since a tender age. Well, me more than my siblings, anyway, since I was the eldest of my brothers. — he arched an eyebrow.

She giggled.

— They were very loud. — she echoed his words.

— More than I liked to admit. Strange. Now that I miss them, I’d give anything to...

He dozed off for a few moments, lost in memory, allowing her to gaze around the room once again.

 She stared at the toys, all tidily arranged side by side in a top shelf. She felt a rush of affection for the Commander; he must’ve been a very sweet, quiet, obedient child from the way he treasured his most beloved possessions. She would’ve loved to have been friends with him at that age.

Most of her childish friendships were forged with the sons and daughters of proud nobles, such as her parents. Like her, they faked having any real bond in front of their families. Once out of sight, the kids would disband, some hurrying back to their nannies, to whom they complained and complained about not liking having to be away from home. Others would just downright ignore her. And some would engage in polite conversation, only to end up criticising everything about her: from her Ferelden accent to her rustic garments.

Truth be told, she only had two friends until she was way more grown up, none of them of noble birth: the son of the cooker and his sister. It’s no wonder she never felt bothered by Cullen not being nobility. If he were, she might not even have liked him. No matter how much her family tried, she could never feel comfortable with the exceeding futility she was expected to demonstrate once they introduced her to the Orlesian court.

Now, she could only imagine their disappointment when she volunteered to join a group of soldiers on their way to a mission in Haven. Or perhaps not. Inquisitor Trevelyan, that’s how she was now known across Thedas nowadays. A name to be both admired and feared. Power and nobility all in one person. Truly a figure fit for admiration in any court. Who could’ve predicted the events on Haven would end in such manner? Life did seem hell-bent on forcing her to play the main role in a sordid ironic play.

The click of a key brought her back to the present. Turning around, she saw Cullen was crouched beside a hole in the otherwise smooth, even ground, unlocking what looked like a rather large storage chest. He stopped for a moment before opening it, lowering his head while resting his arm on the lid. His voice resumed his usual serious tone.

— After my time in the Ferelden Circle, I came back here twice and placed some items of importance in this chest. Things that I wanted to keep safe...from the world. — he paused briefly — I have never let anyone look inside it. Not even my mother knew I kept this hidden here. And my brothers, argh...Maker’s breath, was there anything they didn’t want to peek in my room? Hmph. Nosy bastards... — he cursed fondly.

He threw a pleading glance at her, staring with those honey-coloured eyes as he patted a spot on the ground, asking her to join him. Her heart skipped a beat. Was he asking what she thought he was? Her mouth went dry and her eyes watered as she walked toward him, trying not to accidentally fall. Her legs were shaking rather heavily.

He extended his gloved hand to her as she sat down, keeping her close. He stared at her with a loving expression before it suddenly changed to inexplicable sadness. He squeezed her hand fondly and let go a deep breath, revealing the content of the chest.

Whatever she was about to see would tell her all she needed to know about this man’s past. She had to work very hard not to let her emotions overwhelm her. She knew Cullen would never show this to just anyone. He had lead a difficult life, with many dark areas he had scarcely revealed in one of those rare conversations, when she managed to make him open up before the man succumbed to yet another inexplicable wave of depression.

In spite of his tortured profile, she knew the Commander was a strong man. Even cold and calculating when reality demanded it. Had he not distanced himself from the templars willingly? Forsaken friendships and acquaintances when they threatened to drag him to the abyss? Moreover, he was free from lyrium; free from a lifetime of enslavement, from a miserable addiction. From a lifestyle that would’ve ultimately destroyed him, just as it had countless others. But in the name of all he held dear, he resisted and endured. Maker, how he had endured all these years. Sometimes, it seemed like all he ever did...

He was no longer the broken man who barely survived Uldred and his torturers. He had fought his inner demons over and over and emerged victorious. Many fell in his wake, and even beside him, but he kept going.

 Until one day, his faith was tested in the shape of a demon from his past. Someone he had tried so hard to forget, but could never...have. One name. One mention of her name. It was all it took. To make him crumble again from within. To erase all those years of hard won battles that separated him from the pathetic, naive, weak templar novice he was from the prestigious Knight-Captain, the right hand of Meredith, the infamous mage-hunter who was known to be utterly incorruptible.

One name. So he hadn’t won, like he thought. But as he learned the truth, neither had she. All this time and he never actually stopped to think she might also have been fighting some inner demons of her own.

And now, he felt he had finally prevailed.

His hand stretched to an open envelope made of a thick, yellow paper that had once been carefully sealed and brought it before the Inquisitor’s intense gaze. The name of the one who sent the letter was already worn out by time, but at least she could read the surname:

**Amell.**

...

 

He seemed hesitant.

‘You once asked if I knew the Hero of Ferelden. As I think back, I didn’t know her as well as I thought. Maybe I never knew her at all.’

He removed the letter from the envelope and she was amazed it had so many pages. For some reason, a few drops of blood smirched the first one, but not enough to render the message intelligible.

‘She wrote this to me long ago. It’s been two years ever since I read it.’

Blood rushed to her cheeks and she felt her head spin. This was extremely private. Maker knew what he and that woman had shared in the past. The way he had talked about her countless times – so many times that her jealousy had become so burning, so intense, she thought she would have a stroke if he mentioned her again – made it crystal clear. Was he actually going to let her read it? _Why?_

He handed the lengthy letter to her and she caught it. To her befuddlement, her hands were shaking.

‘Are you sure about this?’

He replied with a curt nod and proceeded to narrate the events prior to his arrival in Haven, beginning after he left the Ferelden Circle.

 


	3. Heartfelt Confessions

 

‘I had been sent to Kinloch Hold for, what, a full year? It sure felt like a year. Or many. I tried as best I could to put the torture I suffered at the hands of Uldred and his lackeys behind me. At times, it seemed too much to ask of me. But the Maker helped me through this. As well as the memory of her coming to save me. She did return. And rescued me, as well as many others, even when she could have left the last templars to die...’

She listened to his confession in utter silence. His gaze stared into nothingness, his eyes ranging from wide open to tightly shut, mirroring the full spectrum of emotions he felt while reliving the past ten years.

‘Then, I was sent to Kirkwall. I had never been to the Free Marches. I was not sure what awaited me there. When I arrived, I saw how mages were treated. Knight-Commander Meredith kept a tight control over them, and many more arrived at the city every day. Amongst them was the Champion’s sister, Bethany.’

‘I saw her a few times accompanying him whenever he...well, everyone knows how he restored his family’s heirloom.’ — he said, not wanting to go into sordid details — ‘Anyway, after Hawke returned from the Deep Roads, I performed my duty as was expected of me. Never mind that Bethany was nothing like the rogue mages or the escapees from the Gallows. She was an apostate, I thought. Her place was in the Circle. Nowadays, I’m not so sure I would agree with pulling families apart like that.’

‘That was my first year in Kirkwall. Everything was doing fine. The mages were locked where they should be, while templars dealt with the rogue mages who threatened to invade. As for the Knight-Commander, she was ever vigilant and trusted my advice...I never felt more righteous. For the first time after a long nightmare, the scattered pieces of my life were coming together. And I owed it to Meredith. ’

His expression ranged from proud to disgust.

‘At first, I adored her. She knew what the threat of rogue mages meant. I wholeheartedly agreed with her zero tolerance policy and she quickly promoted me after my first year working in the Order. I felt as though I had been summoned to a higher calling. Now I’d have the chance to prevent mages like Uldred from rising to power and harming innocents. Everything was perfect. Until that Grey Warden went missing.’ — he swallowed, prepared to reveal the second time she had unwillingly entered his life. Thinking back, he couldn’t help an unbidden thought: never something good was about to happen when he heard about her once more. It was either darkspawn or mages. Never.

‘What Grey Warden?’

‘Nathaniel Howe. The sole male heir to the traitorous Howe family. I’m sure you heard of him.’

He was absolutely right. The Trevelyans were one who hastily cut ties with the Howes after Arl Rendon’s treachery was revealed. In secret, her family still supported Loghain MacTir. Or at least her relatives did. Until the bastard, long-forgotten son of Maric sprung from nowhere and seized the throne with the help of Bann Teagan and Loghain went to join what was left of the Grey Wardens. How could she forget? The story had practically become a cautionary tale to all noble houses in Ferelden. The irony of power struggles and their unpredictability was never absent during dinner conversations.

‘He was in Kirkwall, then? What was he doing so far away from Ferelden?’

Cullen wet his lips before carrying on.

‘One of his associates asked Hawke to help find him. Apparently he had left on an expedition to the Deep Roads and was never seen again. At the time, this stirred all sorts of rumours and soon enough, everyone in the city thought he had been accompanying the Hero of Ferelden in some dangerous assignment. Ugh, people should mind what they say a lot more.’ — he said, bitterly.

‘Did you believe that?’

‘Some part of me did. And that brought back feelings I thought I had finally gotten rid of. Turns out they were only locked away, along with the same part of me I never intended to revisit, ever again. I didn’t know I was making a mistake. You can never live if you don’t feel whole. But those were turbulent times. Or were about to become so. No one was sure of what the future would hold. I certainly didn’t.’

He stared at the envelope, caressing Amell’s name with his index, deep in thought.

‘As it happened, Meredith soon ordered me to investigate. The viscount was worried this could mean a darkspawn invasion in Kirkwall. He couldn’t send the guards, they only patrolled the city streets. And Kirkwall didn’t have an army ever since the Templar Order grew in strength. But when I finally gathered enough templars to lead an expedition, Hawke had already left to the Deep Roads. I had my orders. Unknowingly, I followed the trail of corpses he and his companions left behind. Maker, Hawke sure did get results. I’m glad we never became enemies, not even when he supported the mage rebellion years later.’

‘When we finally made it into the first thaig, Howe was already there. He had just finished wiping out the last of the darkspawn in the area and told us Hawke had returned to Kirkwall through another thaig. I questioned the Grey Warden presence so near the city, but he assured me there was nothing to be afraid of. The darkspawn were not amassing near Kirkwall as the Warden-Commander originally believed. Still, she had sent him there to investigate.’

‘ _She_?’

‘Yes.’ - Cullen said fondly — ‘After the Blight, she had become leader of the Order in Ferelden. And as it turned out, she had briefly travelled from Amaranthine to the Free Marches in the hopes of investigating more sources of darkspawn upheaval.’

‘Did she go to Kirkwall?’ — she asked tentatively.

His voice became more subdued.

‘No. As Howe told me, her mission had taken her to another city, more to the west, where it was said some mages knew enough about blood magic and its relation to the taint. At that time, I worried for her. A mage, a woman I knew that would never become entangled with blood magic and demons, studying it up close? Something didn’t feel right.’ — he said in a low tone.

‘Why?’

‘You wouldn’t know. Kirkwall was being assaulted daily by blood mages coming from nearby cities and even faraway places like Starkhaven. Still, Howe reassured me it was nothing of the sort. Well, what would he know? Like every other innocent, he was blind to the constant danger a mage was exposed!’ —he growled— ‘I swear, at that moment, I almost renounced my post as Knight-Captain just to go after her and tell her to stop this madness. Consorting with blood mages...Maker’s breath, as if I didn’t have enough on my plate.’

A brief silence fell between them.

‘You wanted to see her again that badly?’

After a moment of hesitation, he admitted he did. Nothing escaped her notice.

‘I... couldn’t just let this go. I had to know she was safe. I had to know she was away from harm. So I stalled him. I asked Howe to come to Kirkwall and talk to the viscount. To tell him in person all he told me about the Warden-Commander. At first, he refused. Then I insisted he would be much more relieved if a Grey Warden in person told him the news. Besides, the viscount might’ve wanted to ask him some questions.’

‘Did he accept that?’

‘He couldn’t say no. The viscount had indeed ordered Meredith to bring as much information as possible on the matter. I daresay he was quite pleased to be reassured by a Warden himself that there was no further cause for concern.’

‘And what about you? You were still worried about her...’

His lips curved in an affectionate grin.

‘I used the small amount of time I had while those two chatted to write her a quick message. Nothing... compromising, should someone other than her read it. I didn’t want to embarrass myself or her.’

She thought he was adorable, but kept this to herself.

‘I delivered it to Howe as I escorted him back to the gates of the city and told him this was a warning from the Knight-Commander against the rogue mages that endangered the Free Marches. The Warden-Commander should be made aware of it before having any further dealings with the mages.’

‘Did you hope she’d come to Kirkwall?’

‘I...don’t know. I hoped...I hoped she’d know where I was. That perhaps she’d want to...it’s complicated. There was so much that had been left unsaid between us. I only wanted to see her again, to tell her all the things I could never before, to apologize for how I spoke to her the last time we met. At the time, I...didn’t even know if Howe had delivered my message.’

‘Because she never showed up? But she did write you back, didn’t she?’ — she held the letter signed by Amell on her hands, uncertain.

‘No. Not at that time.’ — was the melancholic reply.

 


	4. The Post-Meredith Years

 

 

‘By the time I heard from her again, things had changed. It was already too late for me to hope for something more. The Knight-Commander had purged the city from mages, invoking the Right of Anullment. It was genocide. And me, of all people, stood with her through this. I should’ve known better.’ — each syllable dripped bitterness — ‘After Hawke departed, I gathered the rest of the templars and tried to restore a semblance of order.’

‘Why stay? The city no longer had a viscount, right? And most of the people had been killed or fled.’

‘The nobility still ruled the city. As it happened, they named a triumvirate and tried to keep Kirkwall’s politics, trade and main economy running. I was named Knight-Commander shortly after and worked with what was left of the city guard to ensure the safety of the remaining citizens. Aveline and I had our hands full. Those were troubled times. As if the Circle’s implosion hadn’t been enough, the mage rebellion erupted just a year later. Our borders were swarming with refugees yet again, and some of them were criminals in hiding. We had trouble keeping rogue mages from invading the city, threatening to kill templars and abduct people to sacrifice to the demons. More than once, we may have condemned innocents. Maker’s breath, it was a nightmare.’ — he let out a heavy sigh, combing his hair with his fingers and messing it up a bit.

‘What about her? Did you hear from her after the mage rebellion? Could she have been involved?’ —she asked, concerned.

‘That’s what I thought at the time. I asked everywhere for news about the Warden-Commander, if she had heard of what happened in Kirkwall and if the Wardens had any sign of Anders. He was one of them, maybe he went into hiding among their ranks?’

‘Do you think the Order would harbor a criminal, even if he once belonged to it?’ — she mildly reprimanded him.

Cullen snorted. She had said the obvious. Of course she was right. But he wasn’t really looking for Anders, was he?

His eyes glinted and his voice was heavy with emotion.

‘I had to try. She could’ve still been in the Free Marches. And with Meredith gone, I...’

Suddenly, he frowned and the dreamy look disappeared from his visage.

‘I received a letter from Weisshaupt, where they demanded we handed Anders to them. I replied shortly at first, saying we had no idea where one of THEM had been hiding. As far as I was concerned, the apostate just ran away during the war on the streets. But then I realized this was the chance I had been waiting for. I remembered the Champion had gone with Anders to the Deep Roads. Then I remembered Howe and him were acquainted. If Anders would seek anyone, it was perhaps him. And since the Warden-Commander was acquainted with them both, perhaps there was a link there that was worth investigating.’

‘Sounds elaborate.’

‘It was. Any avenue I could explore, I did. I just wanted a sign that she was alive and well. It took a few months, but I did get one. It was...certainly not what I expected.’ — his voice betrayed his disappointment.

He swallowed hard, trying to carry on.

‘There had been some rumor regarding her...covert association with King Alistair Theirin.’

‘Ah. Yes. That.’ — she replied, knowing of what unpleasant rumor he spoke about.

‘I thought it was just made up gossip from envious nobles. The fact is that a lot of people hated Alistair rising to the Ferelden throne. More even so that a Grey Warden, someone originated from an Order of former criminals, had helped with his coronation. It was an outrage. In the eyes of such people, the only mitigating fact was his marriage to Anora. She was the stabilizing influence. As I was told, right after the wedding, she had already been successful in assuring the nobles they’d keep their privileges. I can scarcely imagine the revolution that would’ve swept throughout the bannorns had Alistair taken the throne for himself.’

‘Bann Teagan sure would have desired it, if it were possible.’ — she replied dryly.

‘Politics.’ — he smirked.

‘Yeah.’

...

 

She held the letter in her hand, gazing at it absent-mindedly. It was enough to prompt the Commander to finish his confession.

‘I wrote and I wrote to Weisshaupt and then to Amaranthine for weeks, for months. I waited for any reply that would tell me she was alive. But all I got was silence.’

‘I began to hate myself for my obsession. My ill-advised infatuation for her, as I used to call it. I don’t know what I was expecting. She had already moved on. She was a bloody hero, now. And yet, I couldn’t let her go. Not when she had been the closest we could be in years.’

‘And then, the rumor came. The Warden-Commander had been seen one last time with King Alistair right before he departed from the Free Marches. And the both of them were intimate. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. He had returned to Starkhaven not two months ago to help Prince Sebastian deal with the rebel mages. Apparently, she had been in the outskirts of the capital all along. According to eye witnesses, they shared a kiss in front of the crowd. And some people even claim she and him were seen inside the palace, kissing and entering her room...’

 He made a disgruntled noise, holding the bridge of his nose.

_This is it. The damp is about to break._ —she thought.

‘Curse it. A few moments ago, no one knew where to find her. Now she was seen as the king’s mistress, kissing and...’ — he couldn’t take it anymore and swore many times, cursing her and calling her by vulgar names, all alluding to her being a scarlet woman — ‘I’m not sorry of the anger I felt, then. Here I was, playing the part of an idiot, hoping she’d still...she’d still remember me, she’d still care...but she had replaced me all along. She already belonged to someone else. All I could think at the time was: how could I have been such a fool?’

She knew where the intensity of these feelings came. Cullen always seemed calm in the surface. Beneath it, it was an entirely different matter. A passionate man lurked in the depths of his soul. Not that he frightened her. He had forever been the gentleman she expected him to be.

‘I felt my time in Kirkwall was done. There was nothing left for me. Only ashes. And then the Seekers of Truth came. I was interrogated by their leader, Cassandra and she commended me for my attempts to secure the city. She then extended her hand to me and invited me to leave. She needed all the help she could get to protect the Divine and avert an even worse crisis.

‘I had two enemies cornering me: the rebel mages at one side and the red lyrium smugglers on the other. If I stayed, it wouldn’t be long before the Templars crumbled under the pressure. It was too much to fight at once. Truth be told, I just wanted to forget all that and do something right with my life once more. Kirkwall was done. Now was the time to move on.’

‘And so I left Kirkwall that same morning and rode to Haven with the Seekers, where the Conclave would happen. I had left behind anything that could serve as a last link to her. I wanted nothing more to do with women. I was done chasing illusions. Another part of my life was about to begin. There was a task ahead of me, people who needed my advice and my expertise. I wrote to my family in South Reach, communicating my decision. And when I least expected, the past came chasing after me... But not quite in the way I had pictured.’

...

 

Cullen’s face abandoned all traces of hurt he felt toward Amell and now was stretched with a deep melancholy.

‘A messenger from Starkhaven intercepted us. The caravans stopped. He rode toward me, apologising profusely for the delay in the delivery and handed me this envelope. The civil war in Starkhaven, coupled with the rogue mages in the roads and the chaos in Kirkwall had all prevented the letter to be delivered on time. The seal of the Grey Wardens was intact, as well as the date scribbled: the letter was supposed to have arrived three years ago.’

Her heart jolted.

‘As he rode back to Starkhaven, I turned the envelope to see who was the sender and it almost fell from my hand. I was shivering. Physically shivering at that moment. Cassandra asked if I was alright. I couldn’t think straight.’

His voice was charged with emotion and a lump formed in his throat.

‘ **So she had replied.** And all this time, I’d thought...’

 


	5. The Letter

 

He touched the scar on his lip, tracing it with his fingers.

‘I waited until we camped and left my tent in the middle of the night to go somewhere isolated. I didn’t want to be bothered. I sat under a tree by a lake and tried to open the envelope. But the cursed thing was impossible to do. The paper wouldn’t rip, no doubt to some magical protection she had cleverly placed on it. Same thing with the Grey Warden seal. My letter opener couldn’t cut through it.’

‘I wasn’t thinking straight. I gave an infuriated yell and tried to rip the paper with my bare teeth. The spell or whatever she used just reacted and hurt me. **It ripped my skin instead, leaving a scar in its wake.** Served me right. I was a templar, I should’ve known better than to fight magic without my abilities. But I was so desperate to read the letter I completely forgot to use a spell purge.’

She could barely believe what she was hearing.

‘You hurt your mouth trying to open a letter? Cullen...’

He frowned at her.

‘What? Not the story you expected?’

Her dumbfounded expression told him everything. He gave a soft laugh.

‘Reality seldom is. Anyway, it wasn’t the paper that cut me, it was her spell.’

He caressed the scar again.

‘She had touched me. Once again. Not directly, but...’

He dismissed the gesture and looked once more at the ten handwritten pages smirched here and there in tiny drops of his own blood.

‘It’s quite a lengthy letter, isn’t it? I could scarcely believe when I gazed upon it for the first time. She had taken her time to write me. Just as I did for her.’ — he said fondly.

‘You barely knew each other.’ — she remarked, familiar with their brief encounters in the Ferelden Circle —‘And she had all this to say to you?’

‘The greater the distance, the more one miss each other.’ —he replied with a small smile.

‘For my luck, the cut wasn’t too deep. It had only scratched the upper layer of my skin. My lip and face were left intact. Still, the wind carried a few drops with it, staining the paper. It caused ripples in the lake and shook the tree branches. It was about to rain, but I didn’t care. All that existed in the world at that moment were me and her letter.’

Cullen sat beside her, narrating its contents in a brief explanation.

‘From the moment I began reading, I realised this was an unspoken confession. She remembered the hasty departure from the Circle in Ferelden and how she and I could never say our goodbyes. This was something that haunted her all the way to Ostagar, as she tells. Later on, she met “this dullard”, as she called him, who was so different from me. He kept joking about everything nonstop. For someone who grew up in the monastic life of the Circle, his constant lightheartedness had become a hindrance.’

She was already completely lost.

‘Who was she talking about?’

‘The man you know now as King Alistair. This was before he was crowned, back when he was a Warden.’

‘And this she thought upon meeting him? One wonders how they got involved later on...’

Cullen replied with a discreet grin and fondled her hair.

‘Many improbable unions are formed between people from different origins. Don’t you agree, my lady?’

He kissed her hand tenderly, brushing his lips on the back of her palm. Funny how after all these months, that still made her heart race and her cheeks blush.

‘After the battle of Ostagar, though, she says everything changed. She had to travel with no certain destination, no companions except that unbelievably aloof man and an unreliable witch. They had almost no money, no place to stay and fought to stay alive. Somewhere along the line, she ended up with two more companions, a sister from the Chantry and a Qunari killer. She had no friends and no allies. Only memories of a safer past. Those, she says, were the darkest periods of her life. For a long time, the future seemed bleak. And as if things couldn’t become worse, she started having nightmares. The visions of the Archdemon that haunt every Grey Warden.’

‘She never felt more lonely than during those miserable weeks. Weeks that felt almost like a year. After Duncan’s death, everything threatened to spiral out of control. And throughout this time, the memories of our precious few times spent together, simply talking on the corridor were her solace. It was the memory of me that kept her going. The chance that we might see each other again, once this hell was over.’

‘Slowly, she dragged herself onward, fighting darkspawn and helping other peoples in Ferelden sort out their problems. The Grey Wardens had to recruit as many people as possible if they stood a chance to defeat the Archdemon and vanquish the Blight. After so long travelling, becoming entangled in politics and facing all kinds of danger, she had now become a different person, with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Other people’s problems had become her problems. Everyone expected too much of her. She had no one to turn to, no guidance. Her only concern had become to achieve her final goal. And then, news struck her about Uldred’s betrayal.’

‘She returned to the Circle and rescued you.’ — she stated.

‘Not precisely. One glance told me she hadn’t come for me. Although when I first saw her, I mistook her for the illusions Uldred’s torturers had conjured. She looked...different. There was a hardness in her voice that wasn’t there before. Her face was impassive as she spoke to me. If there were traces of the old Amell I knew, I couldn’t see them; due to my tormented state or the hardships she had faced so far. Looking back, I realised I had been too harsh with her. But she confessed she didn’t mind. She felt sorry I had become Uldred’s victim and that she hadn’t arrived sooner to prevent all this...tragedy.’

His voice was once again filled with emotion.

‘She wrote that, once she had killed Uldred and put an end to the threat, she saw how I looked changed. She saw a hurt, enraged young man, and the mere mention of what we had before could be poorly received by me. She wasn’t wrong in this. So, she departed the tower. Without sharing a single word with me, once again. She was tired of fighting that many battles. She didn’t wish to fight another one, least of all against me. If I had known back then I would never see her again after that, I...’

He took a deep breath and turned another page.

...

 

‘Seeing me like that changed her once more. It was as though she had buried her past and placed a rock on top of it. Her life in the Circle had come to a sort of closure. It was time to move on.’

‘By that time, she and Alistair had become more acquainted with each other. She now learned to relax thanks to his jokes. And found out he could be quite serious when he wanted. She said: did you know he was also a templar? Although, as she claims, for a very brief period. Never took his vows, nor drank lyrium. According to her, he and I had so little in common...’

‘Necessity drew them together.’— she remarked.

‘And opportunity as well.’ — he smirked — ‘After all, he was the bastard son of a king. Certainly she didn’t miss that.’

She threw him a dirty look.

‘What? You women do pay attention to things like that. Don’t tell me you don’t.’

‘Is that why you were so attracted to me in the first place, Commander?  Was it my family surname you were after or my estate in Ostwick? Or both?’’ — it was her turn to smirk.

Cullen was at a loss for words. His face was flushed and he began to heavily stutter.

‘I...I didn’t...Maker’s breath, Trevelyan. You know I don’t...’

She calmed him down with a smooch, leaving him yet again at a loss for words and asked him to resume telling her the story. Despite feeling a lot more relieved, he still threw a worried glance at her before carrying on.

‘Well...in the months that followed that visit, she and Alistair became intimate. But not for long. She soon would rally her allies, confront Loghain and force Alistair to take his place on the throne.’

She estranged his choice of words.

‘Did I hear that right? She... _forced_ him?’

‘Apparently Alistair intended to remain a Grey Warden. They argued and she convinced him it was for the best. How she sure must’ve changed. I remember a shy mage, recently out of her apprentice status, talking to me and awkwardly stumbling on her words, just as I did. Nine months later, she gets to decide who sits on the throne of a nation. And all the while, I had no idea. All I knew to do in these last two years was to judge and blame. I should have at least imagined what she had been through.’

He pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose, feeling the guilt return. 

‘After Alistair was crowned, they still had an Archdemon to fight.’ —she remarked.

‘Yes. The armies marched all across Thedas to gather at Denerim. But I never saw how the fighting went. By then, I had already been transferred to Kinlock Hold on Greagoir’s orders. I didn’t know, but she spared a thought for me before the final hour. A piece of her was still attached to her past, to her life in the tower. The war hadn’t torn her apart entirely. Such a strange thing to do, though. She had Alistair by then. Why think of me? And in such a moment, when...well, on the eve of battle, the last night they could share together...’

Trevelyan wondered if it had something to do with Morrigan and her strange ritual concerning the so-called Old God, the way she called the Archdemon. There was nothing holy in that creature, much less divine. Could that have involved the Wardens somehow?

They were arriving at the last pages now.

‘She says her duties never stopped after the Blight was ended. She was summoned urgently to Amaranthine shortly after being nominated Warden-Commander, where yet again, she had to deal with the darkspawn menace. She rarely sees Alistair anymore and both have taken distinct paths. When she came to the Free Marches in search of some strange darkspawn whereabouts, she heard my name and the rank of Knight-Captain. That filled her with both pride...and dread. Would I still want to see her, after all we’d been through? Wouldn’t I already be engaged to someone else? In truth, her coming to Kirkwall could cause such a commotion that the situation could run out of control.’

‘She then had thought of writing me a letter. But how would I respond? And it had been so long...she didn’t know what kind of response that would elicit. As it so happens, she merely resumed her investigation on the darkspawn she was hunting, ordering Howe to go investigate the thaig near Kirkwall.’

‘She wanted to write to you first?’

‘Yes.’ — he replied softly — ‘Turns out she DID write after she received my message. Howe did keep his word, after all. He delivered it to her. She tried writing to me several times, but she was either in the Deep Roads, going further west or roaming the fields after darkspawn. She tried three times, and in all those attempts, the messenger was either killed on the way or tainted.’

‘It came to a point where she had to make a choice. Either go back to the Free Marches and lose her only track to a cure for the taint or keep going. By then, her life had been all about the duty of a Warden. Even if she nurtured fond feelings for me, they were solely the vague reminiscences of a more innocent time, when she had a young woman’s crush. It was something to be treasured, but never relived.’

‘She had come to terms with the impossibility of hearing from me again when she received another one of my messages. At first, she believed the Maker was playing games with her. But then, she took advantage of the only chance she got to write back. This could be her only chance. It had been ten years. She might never be able to return to Ferelden, the Free Marches or any other known civilization. So, she poured her heart in this letter, more of a confession to herself of all that happened ever since she was conscripted than a love letter, full of unfulfilled desires and regrets.’

He turned the last page. The words that came out from his lips were bittersweet.

‘She says her duty takes her further from me and everything she knows. She regrets not having come to Kirkwall to see me one last time. As it turned out, Alistair had already warned her he’d be in Starkhaven. She couldn’t say no.’

Cullen felt silent and let her read Amell’s last words to him:

_It’s strange that I should remember you more clearly now, when I’m about to say goodbye to all that I hold dear. Ten years have passed. And still, I remember every detail of your eyes, your hair and your voice. If time has changed you as well it changed me, I fear we might not even recognise each other anymore. The Maker had already set our paths in different directions even before we were born. We can only be grateful he granted us a few moments together before we set out to fulfill the fates he had in store for us._

_It doesn’t matter what happens to you or me. Know only this: there was a time when I lived among the darkness. In those helpless times, the memory of you was my warming light. I clung to it and whispered your name in my prayers, hoping I would see you again during my travels. This sole hope made me vanquish armies of darkspawn, bear the cold winter nights and starvation, survive attempted murder and retain my sanity amongst the dark chaos that threatened to engulf everything. The promise of seeing you again kept me alive._

_I shall never forget the one time we shared a stolen, forbidden kiss in the library. It may be I was corrupting your templar honor right there and then. But to me, it felt like the one moment where I had done one true thing in my life. Something that had nothing to do with duty and other people’s expectations._

_I will be gone for a long time. Maker knows where my investigation will lead me. I have already taken a ship from Rivain and travel further West, ever seeking answers. News won’t arrive soon where I’m going, but from what I’ve heard, you’ve become an outstanding Knight-Captain. The few people I meet in the villages and camps have all heard of you and Knight-Commander Meredith. I must confess, I wouldn’t have liked to meet her. Things sound as though Kirkwall is going through hard times. Let us hope they don’t escalate as they did the Ferelden Circle._

_By now, my dear, you must have someone special in your life. It is sweet, though, that you decided to write to me when you did. I confess I wonder many times how you must be now.  If I know something about you, you must be happy, having someone by your side and the trust of the Knight-Commander. I hope they can provide you the sense of fulfillment I could never give to you during our precious few moments together._

_I leave my fate in the hands of the Maker and depart on my journey knowing you are safe and sound. Maker willing, I shall see you once more before this is over. It would do my heart well to know you are out there, a grown man, with a wife and children and no more ghosts from the past to haunt you. You were a part of me and I, of you. We can never forget each other. Nor should we. And should the darkness become too much for either of us to bear, then remember: we are always together. Remember the kiss in the library. That night, after my Harrowing. The taste of my lips, the touch of my fingertips brushing your hair, the smell of my perfume. All these things are yours. Search for me nowhere else. I am forever with you in that single moment. Even if death claims me, I am still with you. For in your lips, I shall forever lie._

_Forever yours,_

_Solona Amell._

 

...

 

The wind blew strong now, lifting leaves and dust from the ground. Thunder roared a few meters from where he was sitting. Thick drops fell from the sky, disturbing the smooth surface of the lake. The storm would soon be upon him. And yet, Cullen did anything but refuse to move from the spot.

His hand was clasped tightly around the letter, shaking uncontrollably. His whole frame was tense and loud gasps could be heard coming from his throat. All those years when he saved face, no matter what storm ravaged him inside, had now fallen to the ground. Just a few words from her had laden his feelings bare, leaving him deprived of the shell he had so strenuously built around him to protect of whatever horrors life tried to throw at him.

He cried loudly and in earnest, the warm tears sprouting freely from his red eyes. His mouth was agape, allowing the gasps to purge all the pain and regret from his chest, the roar of a hurt lion whose hunter just opened a fatal wound in his heart.

She remembered it. The sweet moment when she was his and he was hers. Not only that. All of it. All those moments spent together. And now he knew they meant to her as much as they meant to him. This was all he wanted to know...and feared to know. She had loved him all this time. But like him, had been lead away by fate and circumstance.

He stuttered several times, breathing through his mouth, trying to produce a coherent speech.

‘M...Ma...ker...why....th-throw her...in m-my...path...only...t-to....’

 

_I am forever with you in that single moment. Even if death claims me, I am still with you. For in your lips, I shall forever lie._

 

He kissed the spot where she had written her name and touched the scar in a caress, as though it as her who now caressed him back.

He felt the drops of rain hit him more intensely and carefully folded the letter, his now most prize possession, stucking it inside his very robes. He got up, feeling considerably lighter. For the past ten years, he had been dragging an invisible weight behind him. Now, he was a free man again.

She was right. Time had passed. They both changed. One would hardly recognise the other. They now had each a new life, new perspectives ahead of them. And a new calling. Life went on. Nevertheless, should he feel alone, he shall forever have her. And he would always carry her confession of love within the depths of his heart.

And should he ever forget, all he had to do was to gaze into a mirror or touch his own face. For the scar —her scar, the one the spell she cast over him had caused — would never let him forget.

 

 


	6. The One And Only Woman

 

The sound of a hiccup brought him back to the present. The woman he now loved was crying.

 ‘It’s very...emotional. They way she wrote...Maker...’

Cullen threw his arm around her, kissing her tenderly on the neck. She looked back at him, surprised.

‘So, you no longer feel...’

‘Anything for her?’

He lowered his head, frowning a bit.

‘I know what she and I had were real. That is enough for me to know. But now, I have only one woman in my life. And that is you.’

She stared into his eyes, unsure. Soon enough, she cracked a smile. His sincere gaze was reassuring.

‘Thank you for coming with me to Honnleath. I...hadn’t really intended to expose you to all this, but...’

‘It’s alright.’ —she interrupted — ‘I’m happy you did. You wanted to show me something important. She was once very special to you. I now understand.’

A worried look overshadowed his features and he delicately held her face with both hands, staring at her with a troubled look.

‘You really are the only woman in my life, Trevelyan. Have no doubt about it. My feelings for you, I share them with no one else. Not even her, anymore.’ — he nodded towards the letter — ‘I owed that to you.’

Her eyes glinted in response and her lips rested in a natural smile. He was a rare kind of man. No arranged marriage, no amount of wealth in the world would make her trade him for anything.

His past was finally buried, along with that chest. That heavy chest...

‘I used to look at this small treasure and feel the weight of it, as though filling my heart with the weight of memories. Memories I needed –no, I craved- to go on, to remind myself of who I was...but now, I feel nothing. Just...a strange detachment. Lightness. As though these memories belonged to another man; a different man.’

‘Do you like this new man?’

He hesitated for a while, taking in each one of her traces as he considered his answer. His expression was serene and his eyes glinted tenderly.

‘Yes.’ – came the humble murmur.

They shared a slow, long kiss before leaving the house and Honnleath behind. Something told her this would be Cullen’s last trip back home. His past had now remained where it belonged. All that he had ahead of him was the future.

And Maker willing, one they would shape together. In spite of Corypheus, in spite of demons and darkspawn, in spite of the world and all its weariness and corruption...they would vanquish the worst it had to offer, fighting back as many times as it tried to beat them down... and in the end, they would always prevail.

 

****   


 


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